IN a certain Tsardom, across three times nine kingdoms,
beyond high mountain chains, there once lived a merchant. He had been
married for twelve years, but in that time there had been born to him
only one child, a daughter, who from her cradle was called Vasilissa the
Beautiful. When the little girl was eight years old the mother fell ill,
and before many days it was plain to be seen that she must die. So she
called her little daughter to her, and taking a tiny wooden doll from
under the blanket of the bed, put it into her hands and said:

"My little Vasilissa, my dear daughter, listen to
what I say, remember well my last words and fail not to carry out my wishes.
I am dying, and with my blessing, I leave to thee this little doll. It
is very precious for there is no other like it in the whole world. Carry
it always about with thee in thy pocket and never show it to anyone. When
evil threatens thee or sorrow befalls thee, go into a corner, take it
from thy pocket and give it something to eat and drink. It will eat and
drink a little, and then thou mayest tell it thy trouble and ask its advice,
and it will tell thee how to act in thy time of need." So saying,
she kissed her little daughter on the forehead, blessed her, and shortly
after died.

Little Vasilissa grieved greatly for her mother, and her
sorrow was so deep that when the dark night came, she lay in her bed and
wept and did not sleep. At length she be thought herself of the tiny doll,
so she rose and took it from the pocket of her gown and finding a piece
of wheat bread and a cup of kvass, she set them before it, and said: "There,
my little doll, take it. Eat a little, and drink a little, and listen
to my grief. My dear mother is dead and I am lonely for her."

Then the doll's eyes began to shine like fireflies, and
suddenly it became alive. It ate a morsel of the bread and took a sip
of the kvass, and when it had eaten and drunk, it said:

"Don't weep, little Vasilissa. Grief is worst at
night. Lie down, shut thine eyes, comfort thyself and go to sleep. The
morning is wiser than the evening." So Vasilissa the Beautiful lay
down, comforted herself and went to sleep, and the next day her grieving
was not so deep and her tears were less bitter.

Now after the death of his wife, the merchant sorrowed
for many days as was right, but at the end of that time he began to desire
to marry again and to look about him for a suitable wife. This was not
difficult to find, for he had a fine house, with a stable of swift horses,
besides being a good man who gave much to the poor. Of all the women he
saw, however, the one who, to his mind, suited him best of all, was a
widow of about his own age with two daughters of her own, and she, he
thought, besides being a good housekeeper, would be a kind foster mother
to his little Vasilissa.

So the merchant married the widow and brought her home
as his wife, but the little girl soon found that her foster mother was
very far from being what her father had thought. She was a cold, cruel
woman, who had desired the merchant for the sake of his wealth, and had
no love for his daughter. Vasilissa was the greatest beauty in the whole
village, while her own daughters were as spare and homely as two crows,
and because of this all three envied and hated her. They gave her all
sorts of errands to run and difficult tasks to perform, in order that
the toil might make her thin and worn and that her face might grow brown
from sun and wind, and they treated her so cruelly as to leave few joys
in life for her. But all this the little Vasilissa endured without complaint,
and while the stepmother's two daughters grew always thinner and uglier,
in spite of the fact that they had no hard tasks to do, never went out
in cold or rain, and sat always with their arms folded like ladies of
a Court, she herself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day
more and more beautiful.

Now the reason for this was the tiny doll, without whose
help little Vasilissa could never have managed to do all the work that
was laid upon her. Each night, when everyone else was sound asleep, she
would get up from her bed, take the doll into a closet, and locking the
door, give it something to eat and drink, and say: "There, my little
doll, take it. Eat a little, drink a little, and listen to my grief. I
live in my father's house, but my spiteful stepmother wishes to drive
me out of the white world. Tell me! How shall I act, and what shall I
do?"

Then the little doll's eyes would begin to shine like
glow- worms, and it would become alive. It would eat a little food, and
sip a little drink, and then it would comfort her and tell her how to
act. While Vasilissa slept, it would get ready all her work for the next
day, so that she had only to rest in the shade and gather flowers, for
the doll would have the kitchen garden weeded, and the beds of cabbage
watered, and plenty of fresh water brought from the well, and the stoves
heated exactly right. And, besides this, the little doll told her how
to make, from a certain herb, an ointment which prevented her from ever
being sunburnt. So all the joy in life that came to Vasilissa came to
her through the tiny doll that she always carried in her pocket.

Years passed, till Vasilissa grew up and became of an
age when it is good to marry. All the young men in the village, high and
low, rich and poor, asked for her hand, while not one of them stopped
even to look at the stepmother's two daughters, so ill-favored were they.
This angered their mother still more against Vasilissa; she answered every
gallant who came with the same words: "Never shall the younger be
wed before the older ones!" and each time, when she had let a suitor
out of the door, she would soothe her anger and hatred by beating her
stepdaughter. So while Vasilissa grew each day more lovely and graceful,
she was often miserable, and but for the little doll in her pocket, would
have longed to leave the white world.

Now there came a time when it became necessary for the
merchant to leave his home and to travel to a distant Tsardom. He bade
farewell to his wife and her two daughters, kissed Vasilissa and gave
her his blessing and departed, bidding them say a prayer each day for
his safe return. Scarce was he out of sight of the village, however, when
his wife sold his house, packed all his goods and moved with them to another
dwelling far from the town, in a gloomy neighborhood on the edge of a
wild forest. Here every day, while her two daughters were working indoors,
the merchant's wife would send Vasilissa on one errand or other into the
forest, either to find a branch of a certain rare bush or to bring her
flowers or berries.

Now deep in this forest, as the stepmother well knew,
there was a green lawn and on the lawn stood a miserable little hut on
hens' legs, where lived a certain Baba Yaga, an old witch grandmother.
She lived alone and none dared go near the hut, for she ate people as
one eats chickens. The merchant's wife sent Vasilissa into the forest
each day, hoping she might meet the old witch and be devoured; but al
ways the girl came home safe and sound, because the little doll showed
her where the bush, the flowers and the berries grew, and did not let
her go near the hut that stood on hens' legs. And each time the stepmother
hated her more and more because she came to no harm.

One autumn evening the merchant's wife called the three
girls to her and gave them each a task. One of her daughters she bade
make a piece of lace, the other to knit a pair of hose, and to Vasilissa
she gave a basket of flax to be spun. She bade each finish a certain amount.
Then she put out all the fires in the house, leaving only a single candle
lighted in the room where the three girls worked, and she herself went
to sleep.

They worked an hour, they worked two hours, they worked
three hours, when one of the elder daughters took up the tongs to straighten
the wick of the candle. She pre tended to do this awkwardly (as her mother
had bidden her) and put the candle out, as if by accident.

"What are we to do now?" asked her sister. "The
fires are all out, there is no other light in all the house, and our tasks
are not done."

"We must go and fetch fire," said the first.
"The only house near is a hut in the forest, where a Baba Yaga lives.
One of us must go and borrow fire from her."

"I have enough light from my steel pins," said
the one who was making the lace, "and I will not go."

"And I have plenty of light from my silver needles,"
said the other, who was knitting the hose, "and I will not go.

"Thou, Vasilissa," they both said, "shalt
go and fetch the fire, for thou hast neither steel pins nor silver needles
and cannot see to spin thy flax!" They both rose up, pushed Vasilissa
out of the house and locked the door, crying:

"Thou shalt not come in till thou hast fetched the
fire."

Vasilissa sat down on the doorstep, took the tiny doll
from one pocket and from another the supper she had ready for it, put
the food before it and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat
a little and listen to my sorrow. I must go to the hut of the old Baba
Yaga in the dark forest to borrow some fire and I fear she will eat me.
Tell me! What shall I do?"

Then the doll's eyes began to shine like two stars and
it became alive. It ate a little and said: "Do not fear, little Vasilissa.
Go where thou hast been sent. While I am with thee no harm shall come
to thee from the old witch." So Vasilissa put the doll back into
her pocket, crossed herself and started out into the dark, wild forest.

Whether she walked a short way or a long way the telling
is easy, but the journey was hard. The wood was very dark, and she could
not help trembling from fear. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horse's
hoofs and a man on horseback galloped past her. He was dressed all in
white, the horse under him was milk-white and the harness was white, and
just as he passed her it became twilight.

She went a little further and again she heard the sound
of a horse's hoofs and there came another man on horseback galloping past
her. He was dressed all in red, and the horse under him was blood-red
and its harness was red, and just as he passed her the sun rose.

That whole day Vasilissa walked, for she had lost her
way. She could find no path at all in the dark wood and she had no food
to set before the little doll to make it alive.

But at evening she came all at once to the green lawn
where the wretched little hut stood on its hens' legs. The wall around
the hut was made of human bones and on its top were skulls. There was
a gate in the wall, whose hinges were the bones of human feet and whose
locks were jaw- bones set with sharp teeth. The sight filled Vasilissa
with horror and she stopped as still as a post buried in the ground.

As she stood there a third man on horseback came galloping
up. His face was black, he was dressed all in black, and the horse he
rode was coal-black. He galloped up to the gate of the hut and disappeared
there as if he had sunk through the ground and at that moment the night
came and the forest grew dark.

But it was not dark on the green lawn, for instantly the
eyes of all the skulls on the wall were lighted up and shone till the
place was as bright as day. When she saw this Vasilissa trembled so with
fear that she could not run away.

Then suddenly the wood became full of a terrible noise;
the trees began to groan, the branches to creak and the dry leaves to
rustle, and the Baba Yaga came flying from the forest. She was riding
in a great iron mortar and driving it with the pestle, and as she came
she swept away her trail behind her with a kitchen broom.

She rode up to the gate and stopping, said:

Little House, little House, Stand the way thy mother placed
thee, Turn thy back to the forest and thy face to me!

And the little hut turned facing her and stood still.
Then smelling all around her, she cried: "Foo! Foo! I smell a smell
that is Russian. Who is here?"

Vasilissa, in great fright, came nearer to the old woman
and bowing very low, said: "It is only Vasilissa, grand mother. My
stepmother's daughters sent me to thee to borrow some fire."

"Well," said the old witch, "I know them.
But if I give thee the fire thou shalt stay with me some time and do some
work to pay for it. If not, thou shalt be eaten for my supper." Then
she turned to the gate and shouted: "Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock!
Thou, my stout gate, open!" Instantly the locks unlocked, the gate
opened of itself, and the Baba Yaga rode in whistling. Vasilissa entered
behind her and immediately the gate shut again and the locks snapped tight.

When they had entered the hut the old witch threw her
self down on the stove, stretched out her bony legs and said:

"Come, fetch and put on the table at once everything
that is in the oven. I am hungry." So Vasilissa ran and lighted a
splinter of wood from one of the skulls on the wall and took the food
from the oven and set it before her. There was enough cooked meat for
three strong men. She brought also from the cellar kvass, honey, and red
wine, and the Baba Yaga ate and drank the whole, leaving the girl only
a little cabbage soup, a crust of bread and a morsel of suckling pig.

When her hunger was satisfied, the old witch, growing
drowsy, lay down on the stove and said: "Listen to me well, and do
what I bid thee. Tomorrow when I drive away, do thou clean the yard, sweep
the floors and cook my supper. Then take a quarter of a measure of wheat
from my store house and pick out of it all the black grains and the wild
peas. Mind thou dost all that I have bade; if not, thou shalt be eaten
for my supper."

Presently the Baba Yaga turned toward the wall and began
to snore and Vasilissa knew that she was fast asleep. Then she went into
the corner, took the tiny doll from her pocket, put before it a bit of
bread and a little cabbage soup that she had saved, burst into tears and
said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, drink a little,
and listen to my grief. Here I am in the house of the old witch and the
gate in the wall is locked and I am afraid. She has given me a difficult
task and if I do not do all she has bade, she will eat me tomorrow. Tell
me: What shall I do?"

Then the eyes of the little doll began to shine like two
candles. It ate a little of the bread and drank a little of the soup and
said: "Do not be afraid, Vasilissa the Beautiful. Be comforted. Say
thy prayers, and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening."
So Vasilissa trusted the little doll and was comforted. She said her prayers,
lay down on the floor and went fast asleep.

When she woke next morning, very early, it was still dark.
She rose and looked out of the window, and she saw that the eyes of the
skulls on the wall were growing dim. As she looked, the man dressed all
in white, riding the milk-white horse, galloped swiftly around the corner
of the hut, leaped the wall and disappeared, and as he went, it became
quite light and the eyes of the skulls flickered and went out. The old
witch was in the yard; now she began to whistle and the great iron mortar
and pestle and the kitchen broom flew out of the hut to her. As she got
into the mortar the man dressed all in red, mounted on the blood-red horse,
galloped like the wind around the corner of the hut, leaped the wall and
was gone, and at that moment the sun rose. Then the Baba Yaga shouted:
"Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock! Thou, my stout gate, open!"
And the locks unlocked and the gate opened and she rode away in the mortar,
driving with the pestle and sweeping away her path behind her with the
broom.

When Vasilissa found herself left alone, she examined
the hut, wondering to find it filled with such an abundance of everything.
Then she stood still, remembering all the work that she had been bidden
to do and wondering what to begin first. But as she looked she rubbed
her eyes, for the yard was already neatly cleaned and the floors were
nicely swept, and the little doll was sitting in the storehouse picking
the last black grains and wild peas out of the quarter- measure of wheat.

Vasilissa ran and took the little doll in her arms. "My
dearest little doll!" she cried. "Thou hast saved me from my
trouble! Now I have only to cook the Baba Yaga's sup per, since all the
rest of the tasks are done!"

"Cook it, with God's help," said the doll, "and
then rest, and may the cooking of it make thee healthy!" And so saying
it crept into her pocket and became again only a little wooden doll.

So Vasilissa rested all day and was refreshed; and when
it grew toward evening she laid the table for the old witch's supper,
and sat looking out of the window, waiting for her coming. After awhile
she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and the man in black, on the coal-black
horse, galloped up to the wall gate and disappeared like a great dark
shadow, and instantly it became quite dark and the eyes of all the skulls
began to glitter and shine.
Then all at once the trees of the forest began to creak and groan and
the leaves and the bushes to moan and sigh, and the Baba Yaga came riding
out of the dark wood in the huge iron mortar, driving with the pestle
and sweeping out the trail behind her with the kitchen broom. Vasilissa
let her in; and the witch, smelling all around her, asked:

"Well, hast thou done perfectly all the tasks I gave
thee to do, or am I to eat thee for my supper?"

"Be so good as to look for thyself, grandmother,"
answered Vasilissa.

The Baba Yaga went all about the place, tapping with her
iron pestle, and carefully examining everything. But so well had the little
doll done its work that, try as hard as she might, she could not find
anything to complain of. There was not a weed left in the yard, nor a
speck of dust on the floors, nor a single black grain or wild pea in the
wheat.

The old witch was greatly angered, but was obliged to
pretend to be pleased. "Well," she said, "thou hast done
all well." Then, clapping her hands, she shouted: "Ho! my faithful
servants! Friends of my heart! Haste and grind my wheat!" Immediately
three pairs of hands appeared, seized the measure of wheat and carried
it away.

The Baba Yaga sat down to supper, and Vasilissa put before
her all the food from the oven, with kvass, honey, and red wine. The old
witch ate it, bones and all, almost to the last morsel, enough for four
strong men, and then, growing drowsy, stretched her bony legs on the stove
and said: "Tomorrow do as thou hast done today, and besides these
tasks take from my storehouse a half-measure of poppy seeds and clean
them one by one. Someone has mixed earth with them to do me a mischief
and to anger me, and I will have them made perfectly clean." So saying
she turned to the wall and soon began to snore.

When she was fast asleep Vasilissa went into the corner,
took the little doll from her pocket, set before it a part of the food
that was left and asked its advice. And the doll, when it had become alive,
and eaten a little food and sipped a little drink, said: "Don't worry,
beautiful Vasilissa! Be comforted. Do as thou didst last night: say thy
prayers and go to sleep." So Vasilissa was comforted. She said her
prayers and went to sleep and did not wake till next morning when she
heard the old witch in the yard whistling. She ran to the window just
in time to see her take her place in the big iron mortar, and as she did
so the man dressed all in red, riding on the blood red horse, leaped over
the wall and was gone, just as the sun rose over the wild forest.

As it had happened on the first morning, so it happened
now. When Vasilissa looked she found that the little doll had finished
all the tasks excepting the cooking of the sup per. The yard was swept
and in order, the floors were as clean as new wood, and there was not
a grain of earth left in the half-measure of poppy seeds. She rested and
refreshed herself till the afternoon, when she cooked the supper, and
when evening came she laid the table and sat down to wait for the old
witch's coming.

Soon the man in black, on the coal-black horse, galloped
up to the gate, and the dark fell and the eyes of the skulls began to
shine like day; then the ground began to quake, and the trees of the forest
began to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the Baba Yaga came riding
in her iron mortar, driving with her pestle and sweeping away her path
with her broom.

When she came in she smelled around her and went all about
the hut, tapping with the pestle; but pry and examine as she might, again
she could see no reason to find fault and was angrier than ever. She clapped
her hands and shouted:

"Ho! my trusty servants! Friends of my soul! Haste
and press the oil out of my poppy seeds!" And instantly the three
pairs of hands appeared, seized the measure of poppy seeds and carried
it away.

Presently the old witch sat down to supper and Vasilissa
brought all she had cooked, enough for five grown men, and set it before
her, and brought beer and honey, and then she herself stood silently waiting.
The Baba Yaga ate and drank it all, every morsel, leaving not so much
as a crumb of bread; then she said snappishly: "Well, why dost thou
say nothing, but stand there as if thou wast dumb?"

But Vasilissa, remembering what the Baba Yaga had said,
that not every question led to good, was silent.

"Ask me more!" cried the old witch. "Why
dost thou not ask me more? Ask me of the three pairs of hands that serve
me!"

But Vasilissa saw how she snarled at her and she answered:
"The three questions are enough for me. As thou hast said, grandmother,
I would not, through knowing over much, become too soon old."

"It is well for thee," said the Baba Yaga, "that
thou didst not ask of them, but only of what thou didst see outside of
this hut. Hadst thou asked of them, my servants, the three pairs of hands
would have seized thee also, as they did the wheat and poppy seeds, to
be my food. Now I would ask a question in my turn: How is it that thou
hast been able, in a little time, to do perfectly all the tasks I gave
thee? Tell me!"

Vasilissa was so frightened to see how the old witch ground
her teeth that she almost told her of the little doll; but she bethought
herself just in time, and answered: "The blessing of my dead mother
helps me."

Then the Baba Yaga sprang up in a fury. "Get thee
out of my house this moment!" she shrieked. "I want no one who
bears a blessing to cross my threshold! Get thee gone!"

Vasilissa ran to the yard, and behind her she heard the
old witch shouting to the locks and the gate. The locks opened, the gate
swung wide, and she ran out on to the lawn. The Baba Yaga seized from
the wall one of the skulls with burning eyes and flung it after her. "There,"
she howled, "is the fire for thy stepmother's daughters. Take it.
That is what they sent thee here for, and may they have joy of it!"

Vasilissa put the skull on the end of a stick and darted
away through the forest, running as fast as she could, finding her path
by the skull's glowing eyes which went out only when morning came.

Whether she ran a long way or a short way, and whether
the road was smooth or rough, towards evening of the next day, when the
eyes in the skull were beginning to glimmer, she came out of the dark,
wild forest to her stepmother's house.

When she came near to the gate, she thought, "Surely,
by this time they will have found some fire," and threw the skull
into the hedge; but it spoke to her, and said: "Do not throw me away,
beautiful Vasilissa; bring me to thy step mother." So, looking at
the house and seeing no spark of light in any of the windows, she took
up the skull again and carried it with her.

Now since Vasilissa had gone, the stepmother and her two
daughters had had neither fire nor light in all the house. When they struck
flint and steel the tinder would not catch. and the fire they brought
from the neighbors would go out immediately as soon as they carried it
over the threshold, so that they had been unable to light or warm themselves
or to cook food to eat. Therefore now, for the first time in her life,
Vasilissa found herself welcomed. They opened the door to her and the
merchant's wife was greatly rejoiced to find that the light in the skull
did not go out as soon as it was brought in. "Maybe the witch's fire
will stay," she said, and took the skull into the best room, set
it on a candlestick and called her two daughters to admire it.

But the eyes of the skull suddenly began to glimmer and
to glow like red coals, and wherever the three turned or ran the eyes
followed them, growing larger and brighter till they flamed like two furnaces,
and hotter and hotter till the merchant's wife and her two wicked daughters
took fire and were burned to ashes. Only Vasilissa the Beautiful was not
touched.

In the morning Vasilissa dug a deep hole in the ground
and buried the skull. Then she locked the house and set out to the village,
where she went to live with an old woman who was poor and childless, and
so she remained for many days, waiting for her father's return from the
far-distant Tsardom.

But, sitting lonely, time soon began to hang heavy on
her hands. One day she said to the old woman: "It is dull for me,
grandmother, to sit idly hour by hour. My hands want work to do. Go, therefore,
and buy me some flax, the best and finest to be found anywhere, and at
least I can spin."

The old woman hastened and bought some flax of the best
sort and Vasilissa sat down to work. So well did she spin that the thread
came out as even and fine as a hair, and presently there was enough to
begin to weave. But so fine was the thread that no frame could be found
to weave it upon, nor would any weaver undertake to make one.

Then Vasilissa went into her closet, took the little doll
from her pocket, set food and drink before it and asked its help. And
after it had eaten a little and drunk a little, the doll became alive
and said: "Bring me an old frame and an old basket and some hairs
from a horse's mane, and I will arrange everything for thee." Vasilissa
hastened to fetch all the doll had asked for and when evening came, said
her prayers, went to sleep, and in the morning she found ready a frame,
perfectly made, to weave her fine thread upon.

She wove one month, she wove two months-all the winter
Vasilissa sat weaving, weaving her fine thread, till the whole piece of
linen was done, of a texture so fine that it could be passed, like thread,
through the eye of a needle. When the spring came she bleached it, so
white that no snow could be compared with it. Then she said to the old
woman: "Take thou the linen to the market, grandmothers and sell
it, and the money shall suffice to pay for my food and lodging."
When the old woman examined the linen, however, she said:

"Never will I sell such cloth in the market place;
no one should wear it except it be the Tsar himself, and tomorrow I shall
carry it to the Palace."

Next day, accordingly, the old woman went to the Tsar's
splendid Palace and fell to walking up and down before the windows. The
servants came to ask her her errand but she answered them nothing, and
kept walking up and down. At length the Tsar opened his window, and asked:
"What dost thou want, old woman, that thou walkest here?"

"O Tsar's Majesty" the old woman answered, "I
have with me a marvelous piece of linen stuff, so wondrously woven that
I will show it to none but thee."

The Tsar bade them bring her before him and when he saw
the linen he was struck with astonishment at its fineness and beauty.
"What wilt thou take for it, old woman?" he asked.

"There is no price that can buy it, Little Father
Tsar," she answered; "but I have brought it to thee as a gift."
The Tsar could not thank the old woman enough. He took the linen and sent
her to her house with many rich presents.

Seamstresses were called to make shirts for him out of
the cloth; but when it had been cut up, so fine was it that no one of
them was deft and skillful enough to sew it. The best seamstresses in
all the Tsardom were summoned but none dared undertake it. So at last
the Tsar sent for the old woman and said: "If thou didst know how
to spin such thread and weave such linen, thou must also know how to sew
me shirts from it."

And the old woman answered: "O Tsar's Majesty, it
was not I who wove the linen; it is the work of my adopted daughter."

"Take it, then," the Tsar said, "and bid
her do it for me." The old woman brought the linen home and told
Vasilissa the Tsar's command: "Well I knew that the work would needs
be done by my own hands," said Vasilissa, and, locking herself in
her own room, began to make the shirts. So fast and well did she work
that soon a dozen were ready. Then the old woman carried them to the Tsar,
while Vasilissa washed her face, dressed her hair, put on her best gown
and sat down at the window to see what would happen. And presently a servant
in the livery of the Palace came to the house and entering, said: "The
Tsar, our lord, desires himself to see the clever needlewoman who has
made his shirts and to reward her with his own hands."

Vasilissa rose and went at once to the Palace, and as
soon as the Tsar saw her, he fell in love with her with all his soul.
He took her by her white hand and made her sit beside him. "Beautiful
maiden," he said, "never will I part from thee and thou shalt
be my wife."

So the Tsar and Vasilissa the Beautiful were married,
and her father returned from the far-distant Tsardom, and he and the old
woman lived always with her in the splendid Palace, in all joy and contentment.
And as for the little wooden doll, she carried it about with her in her
pocket all her life long.

The
text came from:

Wheeler, Post. Russian Wonder Tales.
New York: The Century Company, 1912.Amazon.com:Buy the book inpaperback.

To read more about the changes made to
the text and various editions of this book, please see my Notes
About This Book.